“Mother!”
Perseathea spun at the sound of Palius’ cry.
Masseeia scratched after the screeching child, grabbing up a handful of her blond hair, then yanked her up by an arm. Running off, Masseeia escaped with Palius tucked away in her arms.
“I’m going after them.” Queen Perseathea shouted to me, her breath fast. “Get to the stables.”
I nodded frantically, and with that, the Queen took off. Staring after the woman till she disappeared, I then dropped my attention back down to Cyrenna. The warrior laid unconscious beneath me now, blood seeping the splits in her skin, her face purpled and swollen.
Chapter 65
Saratiese awoke with a jerk. Springing up from the furs, her breath shuddered her chest like she’d been running and she soaked in a cold sweat. Hugging herself, she looked around the chamber. The frigid room curved like a spool, reaching high into rafters where tweeting black birds nested. Silver daggers stabbed numerous unrolled scrolls into the mortar walls, the dusty parchments depicting constellations, conjuring spells, and scribbles spiraling out in riddles. High above the scrolls, a lone window loomed, but it was far too lofty for any soul but the black birds to reach. Its’ sunlight filtered down into the drab, dusty chamber, directing Saratiese to the sinister floor symbol it lit up.
Ruin stones speckled the floor like autumn leaves and beneath their dust, blared up this peculiar symbol, almost the size of the floor itself. Lifting to her bare feet, Saratiese hugged herself tighter, her breath showing in mist as she studied the strange mark. Dyed the same blood color as the witch’s robes, it sprawled over the wooden floor like a porthole into nightmares.
A peculiar musk in the room pulled Saratiese away. Sweet and heady, the scent smelled like nothing she had ever known before. A stream of smoke no thicker than her smallest finger caught her eye, tendriling up from a stone on the fireplace mantle. The fireplace itself looked cold, the smoke of the incense its’ only smoke in long days, but the tendrils seemed to congest the whole chamber.
To each side of the fireplace, dozens and dozens of rolled up scrolls protruded a myriad of urns. Each of the urns were a different size, but all them were one of only three colors. Deep red, ocean green, and a purple the shade of twilight. Each urn bore a different insignia, ciphers of which Saratiese knew no meaning. Hundreds of these urns littered the dusty chamber, cluttering the room, making Saratiese feel cramped. Only a quick look up to the high rafters and open window made her feel like there was enough air to breathe.
After a few consoling breaths, the wooden door across the room called out to her. Old wood splintering in its’ age, but thick, its’ black iron hinges appeared much newer than the door itself. Saratiese listened to the stillness of the chamber. Faint voices blended together outside the high window, sounding far away and muddled. Too many to distinguish, but none sounding close. She seemed to be alone… for now. The thought of the Dark Oracle looming nearby sent a shiver under her already chilled skin. The Oracle was unlike anything she’d bore witness too, and the witch’s mere presence made her skin crawl. Where was the hag now? When would she return? What did she want? None of the questions stayed long Saratiese’s head. She pushed them out before they had the chance to cripple her. She had to get out of here and find the others.
Taking a slow step toward the door, her bare feet creaked the wooden floor. Loud. Hesitating, she took another cautious step, then another, all the while staring at the chamber door. Glancing up the wall again, she let out a disappointed sigh. Every dagger loomed much too high for her to reach. Taking one last step, she found herself at the door. Floating a cautious hand out to the iron handle, she swallowed. This chamber must rest high up in a fortress tower. The chances of my getting down to the others unscathed is….
Saratiese squeezed into the cold handle, praying under her breath. Too her surprise, the door popped open with a creak. She stood frozen, tensing at the noise. Waiting for the comfort of silence to flood back, she leaned in, peering out into the hall. A deserted stairwell stretched out before her, its’ view limited by winding steps. Wind howled in the stairwell like the walls were moaning as Saratiese slowly pulled the door open to her chest.
And a voice came. A dark and graveled voice. Saratiese recoiled, her eyes wide and unblinking. The stairwell still loomed empty, but the single voice echoed up… faintly. Far off, but perceptible. Saratiese strained her ears, but she couldn’t make out the words. Cowering behind the door, she waited. Chest heaving. And a faint shuffling sounded at the bottom of the steps.
She slid the door shut, careful of the creak. Taking a step back, Saratiese cautiously leaned back in, pressing an ear to the door. The bizarre uttering grew louder, but still made no sense. Turning around, she glanced over the chamber walls, once again coveting the out of reach daggers. Her own breath now sounded loud in her ears. The shuffling sounded up the steps, echoing the voice throughout the stairwell.
Saratiese froze, balling her fists. There was nowhere to hide. The footsteps now signaled loud and clear. Closer. Closer. And then they stopped, as if someone were standing just outside the door. Waiting. Listening for her. The howling wind rose up in the stairwell again, but not the voice, or the footsteps. Just silence. Saratiese stared at the door, eyes drying in fear, the cold sweat resurfacing in her tight palms. Anxious moments passed with her heart trembling.
Long, silent moments…. Saratiese began to question what she had heard. Had she heard the footsteps? The voice? So many moments had stretched out now that she was unsure. Maybe the witch had given her some strange herbs? She didn’t know. Clenching her jaw, she floated a hand back up to the door handle. The stairwell sighed back at her from the other side, moaning. She tugged the handle. The door popped open again, and Saratiese stood behind it like stone. This time, she refused to peek through the crack. Her hand instead waited at the handle, fearing someone lingered on the other side.
Silence but for the howling. Her mouth went dryer than desert wind. In a jerk, she yanked the door open, pouncing into the hall. No one was there. Silence. Even the howling seemed to die off. Sighing in relief, Saratiese narrowed her eyes on the curve of steps just a few paces away. Abruptly, like an attack, the voice jumped back at her. Loud and in her face. But she could see no one. No one in the hall or on the steps. But the voice seemed to be coming from right in front of her. Then it struck her. The voice was inside her mind.
Heart racing, her skin turned colder than death, and velvet robes swept at her back. She could feel them, see them, their red tips slithering around her legs like ribbons on water. Her breath dropped into white mist again. Saratiese shut her eyes, scared to turn around. Scared to look. The witch had been in the room with her the whole time.
The gravely voice sounded, but once again, not in words she understood. Ghoulish mutterings attacked her mind, showing her what was or could be. Threatening her. Taunting her. Terrified, she opened her eyes to escape. The witch levitated before her. Saratiese tilted her head to take in the full length of the Dark Oracle. Her ancient, black pooled eyes possessed a darkness like the very universe hid behind them. The ominous blue glow sparked once again.
Chapter 66
Perseathea sprinted through the yard, chasing Masseeia, but after a maze of alleyways, lost the woman. Bending over, she palmed her knees, catching her breath, but just ahead, a flash of black hair darted across a pathway. Perseathea charged back into a run, taking down a parallel alley and twisting its corner, meeting Masseeia head on. The First Commander stumbled to a stop, Palius jostling in her arm.
“Mother!” The girl cried out.
Perseathea hurled her sword into Masseeia’s axe, lobbing the blade to the ground. Pointing her sword at Masseeia’s chest, Perseathea took a step, forcing the woman a step back.
“I’m here, Palius.” Perseathea smiled at her child, then shifted dark eyes to her sister. “Hand her over. Now.”
“You truly believe it’s that easy?” Masseeia taunted, keeping a strong hold on Paliu
s even as she wrestled under her arm. “You’re dimmer than I thought.”
“Mother….” Palius squirmed, shoving against Masseeia’s chest, but this only caused the First Commander to grab the girl by the throat, wringing in until Palius coughed.
“Keep still.” She ordered.
“Don’t worry, Palius.” Perseathea kept her sword ready, eyeing Masseeia. “I’ll kill her if I have to.”
“Ha!” Masseeia scoffed, refusing to give up anymore ground. “You haven’t killed me yet. How many chances have you had now?”
“Compelling point.” Perseathea pressed her sword up under the woman’s chin, “But I think your chances have run out.”
Masseeia dropped her hand from Palius’ throat, but then kicked a roundhouse into Perseathea‘s hand, knocking the sword into the dirt. She grappled back into Palius’ throat, clenching the flesh.
“Now we’re even.”
Perseathea charged a kick into the First Commander‘s gut, tackling her in the dust. Wrestling on top of her, she clawed at the woman, desperate to pry Palius from her right arm. Dust stirred up under the brawl as Masseeia suffocated Palius under a choke hold, fighting off the Queen with left jabs and flailing knees. Realizing her disadvantage, Perseathea pulled back up to her feet, strategizing how to get passed the kicks. Masseeia grinned up at her, knees bent and ready to fire bone breaking kicks, Palius turning red underneath her forearm.
Surging forward again, Perseathea tricked Masseeia into another series of kicks, and this time snatched up the woman’s ankles. Just as Masseeia pulled to free her legs, Perseathea sprung in, busting a fist into the woman’s nose, then jolted back up to her feet. Blood busted and Masseeia, thrown off guard, loosened her hold on Palius.
“Come here!”
Perseathea reached for Palius, but Masseeia shook off the blow, recovering into another death squeeze on the child. Her choke hold crushed Palius into coughs. She couldn’t breathe. Squirming, she clawed tiny fingers at Masseeia’s forearm, gasping as her face turned purple. At that, Perseathea slid to her knees, straddling the woman.
Masseeia thrashed up, busting her forehead into Perseathea‘s lip. Knocking her backward. Letting loose of Palius, Masseeia jolted up, lunging into the Queen. The two women knocked back into the dirt, Perseathea struggling beneath the First Commander.
Palius stumbled to her feet, but didn’t manage a single step before Masseeia realized and shot a hand out, clamping into Palius’ ankle. The child pulled down onto her chin and Masseeia spider crawled fingers up the child’s back, tangling them into her hair. Now, the First Commander straddled Perseathea and held Palius. Palius floundered in place, her face bright pink as she scratched elfin hands over the hand knotting in her hair.
Perseathea stared up at her daughter, straining against the two knees pinning her shoulders to the ground.
“Look what I’ve got.” Masseeia said, nearly singing.
The Queen bucked her hips, tossing Masseeia forward, then yanked the left arm out from under the woman. At the crack of her elbow, Masseeia tilted off balance to her left, crashing onto her back. Loosing her hold on Palius. Perseathea twisted over, pinning the woman to the ground, head butting her.
“Perseathea!” Bartamius shouted, rushing up from behind with Tythose.
“Grab Palius….” The Queen sputtered out, still pinning her dazed sister down.
Bartamius swooped Palius into his arms, the child still red faced and coughing. Perseathea lifted to her feet, pulling Masseeia up by an arm. The warrior opted to stand still since she was weaponless, so smearing the blood from her nose, she instead sneered at the two men.
“Tythose,” Queen Perseathea began, “take her, will you?” She shoved her sister over to the soldier.
“Bartamius?” Tythose kept his blade at Masseeia’s face.
Bartamius handed Palius to Perseathea, then yanked Masseeia’s arms behind her back, tethering them together. Weaving out of the way as she attempted to head butt into his chin, Bartamius grinned. “Got ya.”
Finished tying the woman’s wrists, he shoved her over to Tythose, who held her by the arm, sword ready.
“Have you seen Askca?” Perseathea asked, Palius hugging her neck. “Last I knew she was fighting Cyrenna, but-”
“I haven’t seen her.” Bartamius looked around, making certain the battle wasn’t closing in on them. Satisfied, he pulled his sister in under his arm. “Perseathea, you have to get out of this fortress. You know that.”
“And you know I’m not leaving.”
“I know. I know. But let me find Askca.”
Perseathea sighed, palming Palius’ head into her neck. “Get my daughters and the braves out of here.”
“And then?”
“And then I‘ll get myself out. But not until I know they are safe and the Amazons are claiming victory.”
Lifting Palius from Perseathea’s arms, Bartamius shook his head. “That’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”
Perseathea eyes brightened. “You know it is.”
Just as Bartamius leaned in to give his sister a last hug, a scuffle busted out behind them. Perseathea spun around, standing in front of Bartamius and Palius to shield her child.
Masseeia now stood with Tythose’s sword, the blade stiff at his throat, his palms up in surrender.
“You really thought this worm of a man could hold me?” She asked, backing Tythose up.
Perseathea turned back to Bartamius. “I’ll get Tythose. Get my daughters as far from this fortress as you can.”
Bartamius nodded, turning on his heel with Palius.
“Oh Perseathea,” Masseeia sang, pulling her sword back from Tythose, tempting him, “the predicaments you get yourself into.”
Tythose, knowingly out matched, took a desperate fisted swing at Masseeia, but the woman smoothly dodged it, instead heaving her blade back around to slash his neck open. He ducked, narily missing the cut. Taking a few hunched steps back, he raised back into posture with Masseeia’s sword point a hand length’s from his face. He glanced to the Queen for help.
“Go to Bartamius.” She answered his gaze.
He nodded and ran.
Perseathea pulled her own sword, but tossed it to the ground, instead lifting her hands for combat. “Let’s finish this.”
Masseeia cocked a satisfied eyebrow, her sword still firm in hand. Swinging into a kick, Perseathea busted Masseeia’s palm, hurling her sword to the dirt. Masseeia hesitated, looking at her empty hand. Then lunged. At the woman’s onset, Perseathea ducked, clenching into Masseeia’s hips and dumping her head over heels onto her back. Masseeia hopped up with Perseathea spinning around to meet her.
As Perseathea closed in, Masseeia kicked her in the stomach, backing her up. For a moment, the Queen stumbled, but quickly recovered her air. Faking another kick, Perseathea instead smashed a jab into Masseeia’s jaw. Followed by a cross strike. The warrior staggered, the blows nearly costing her balance. Smoothing a hand over her aching jaw, Masseeia gave a cocky grin.
“You still refuse to kill me.”
“I’m not done.” Perseathea flit up quick hands, grabbing the back of Masseeia’s head, busting it into the upswing of her knee. Dazed, Masseeia ripped out of the hold, staggering, blood once again running her lips. Exploiting her sister’s hunched vulnerability, Perseathea jolted another knee into her gut.
Sinking to her knees, Masseeia’s mouth gaped open like a dying fish, her face paling as she wheezed for air.
Kneeling down to her sister, Perseathea asked a question she already knew the answer to. “You won’t stay down, will you?”
Masseeia forced a smirk, shaking her head. Hating it, Perseathea grit her teeth, smashing one last fist into her sister’s face.
Masseeia stared up at the blue afternoon sky, the smell of her own blood in her nose as it trickled the back of her throat. Her face felt numb and she still couldn’t breath.
Perseathea pulled her up by the amulet hanging around her neck. “You shame th
e Amazons.”
Masseeia stared up at her sister, but her eyes refused to focus. And a moment later, she went black.
Sliding a thumb over the green amulet, Perseathea tangled her fingers in its leather twine, snapping it from her sister’s neck. Palming the stone like a precious jewel, she leaned over Masseeia, pulling the First Commander’s sword from the dirt.
Just then, footsteps ushered up from behind. Sword in hand, Perseathea sprung up, spinning around. Cyrenna stormed her, knocking the Queen back a step. When Perseathea reinforced her balance, Cyrenna stood right on top of her, warmth washing over Perseathea’s hand. Cyrenna slumped into her with a raspy moan. The warrior had run herself through, sinking the sword deep through her own stomach to protrude her back. Perseathea palmed the warrior’s shoulder, easing her slowly off the blade.
Cyrenna stood in a daze, eyes bulging as the blade pulled out crimson with her blood. Her axe slid from her fingers, dropping to the dust, as her gaze floated up to meet Perseathea's. The two held there till Cyrenna finally went limp. A twinge of guilt pricked Perseathea's heart as she laid Cyrenna in the dust. Kneeling over the dead Amazon, she stared on the bloody gash in Cyrenna’s stomach, whispering.
“You didn’t have to die for her.”
Chapter 67
"Askca!" A man’s voice came up behind me. I turned just as Tythose grabbed my hand.
“Follow me.”
I ran behind the soldier, darting into the maze of edifices. Once we were out of sight, he settled us between two of the stables still standing. Sweat and blood spattered his face as he sucked air into his rosy cheeks, checking down one end of the wall to the next.
“Bartamius is looking for you.”
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